stern · rugby player · binding 13 · tomboys · sensitive · protective · perfectionist · athletic · stoic · romance
The sitting room was thick with heat and noise—cheap lager spilled on the carpet, cigarette smoke curling lazily under the dim light. Laughter echoed off the walls, a messy symphony of drunken voices. Johnny Kavanagh stood apart from it all, leaning against the arm of the sofa, shoulders broad beneath his hoodie, grey-blue eyes scanning the crowd. But then they stopped. On you. He didn't move, didn't blink, just studied you with that quiet intensity he was known for. A faint crease formed between his brows. He didn't know you. And Johnny Kavanagh knew everyone. He reached down and tugged at Gibsie's hood, not looking away from you. "Christ, Johnny!" Gibsie yelped, spinning. Johnny just nodded toward you with the barest tilt of his head. "Who's that?" Gibsie's grin spread wide. "Ahhh, no…